


Sharing and Kevin

by Safiyabat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, mentions of Castiel, mentions of Michael - Freeform, mentions of lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't poke the mutilated soul with a stick, Kevin.  </p><p>Someone asks Sam to share details about his time in the Cage.  For once he actually opens up a little.  Set sometime between "Clip Show" and "Sacrifice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing and Kevin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [herbailiwick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/gifts).



> Prompted by herbailiwick. 
> 
> Mild spoilers for seasons 5, 6 and 8.
> 
> Supernatural and the characters from the show are not my property. I make no money from this or any other work of fan fiction.

Sam’s head throbbed and there weren’t enough blankets in the freaking bunker to stop the shivering. Stupid Trials. Stupid body. Stupid Crowley. Stupid him, for thinking they could even pull this off. He tried to focus on the book in front of him but the words kept swimming. He couldn’t even read anymore, not for any length of time. Why even bother? They were going to fail and do so spectacularly. It was what they were best at, at least any time he got involved. 

He heard footsteps shuffling toward the kitchen before Kevin entered the map room. The prophet glowered at him. He looked back at his book. “Where’s Dean?” the teen demanded, sitting down. 

“Grocery run,” the hunter replied. He tried to keep his words to a minimum when dealing with Kevin. The guy hated him – justifiably so, at least in Sam’s opinion – and Sam just didn’t have much to say to him. Nothing that the guy likely to want to hear, anyway. Hey Kevin, want to chat about dead girlfriends? Maybe about thwarted academic ambitions? How about being forced into a life you hate? Oooh oooh – let’s discuss getting locked in underground with hunters who support free will as it applies to them only punctuated by visits from angels with no concept whatsoever of personal space. Oh – and the unresolved sexual tension between said hunter and said angel, which was rendered EVEN MORE ENJOYABLE when you knew that you’d never experience the touch of another person again. Yeah, none of those topics seemed like they’d make Kevin hate him less.

Kevin frowned. “Is that a good idea, letting him out in public like that?” “What do you mean?” “Well, I mean, you’re a dick, don’t get me wrong, but you’re less likely to snap and kill everyone in sight.” 

He opened his mouth and shut it again. “Maybe,” he said. “He’s certainly more willing to use violence to get what he wants, and while he’s a pretty good cook his grocery shopping skills leave a little to be desired.” Kevin acknowledged this. Like he had a choice – the kid had been forced to depend on those skills for months and wound up subsisting on hot dogs. Huh. There was another of those creepy similarities that they just couldn’t talk about. He coughed violently. “At the same time, my walking for distance skills and my standing for any length of time skills are leaving even more to be desired unless I’m actually performing a Trial, so it’s best left to Dean.”

The kid sighed. “Yeah, about that. You were full of shit when you said it gets better, weren’t you?” 

“What, way back when we found you?” He chuckled. “Kevin, haven’t you figured it out by now? You should never, ever take me for an example. Unless it’s of what not to do. Look at Dean, though. It was pretty grim for him for a long time. Hell, he was dead. But he’s got a pretty sweet place now, he’s got friends who care for him. He’s even in a LARP.” 

“He’s in a LARP?” Kevin’s eyes got so wide they might have taken up half of his face. “Seriously? That is so freakin’ awesome.”

Technically Sam supposed he counted as being in the LARP himself, but he decided not to mention it. He was pretty sure that it would only diminish the cool factor of LARP in the teen’s eyes. Besides, he hated it, and he wasn’t going to be returning. “Oh yeah. Our charming Dean is the handmaiden to the Queen of Moondor herself.”

“You’re kidding me! That’s amazing. I had no idea he would be into something so… cool.” He sobered. “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Why did people ask that? They were going to ask the damn question no matter how you replied. Why give you the illusion of choice? “Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you look for me?” 

He sighed, which of course led to another coughing fit. “Look, Kevin. I know you think I’m the stable one, but really? I’m not. When Dean isn’t around I’m not safe. Not for hunting.”

“You were afraid of a little danger? Look at you now!”

Advanced freaking placement, ladies and gentlemen. “No, Kevin. That’s not it at all. Listen. There have been… uh… three times… when I’ve lost Dean and tried to hunt. Okay? Three times. Two of those times I turned into this… horrible creature. I didn’t care who I hurt or who got in my way, I was taking them out to get to my target, you understand me? Non-humans who hadn’t hurt anyone. Innocent humans. I did not care. Granted, one of those times I didn’t have a soul.”

“You didn’t have a soul?”

“What, you thought what I said to your mother was just some platitude? No. I was speaking from experience.”

“Did you trade it for something good?”

“I didn’t trade it for anything, it was taken. Anyway, the other time I accidentally started the Apocalypse. So having me do anything hunting-related when Dean isn’t around to keep me… human, or human-ish anyway, is just a really, really bad idea. It’s bad for the people around me and it’s bad for the planet. I’m sorry that it was bad for you, I really am. I can’t even… there aren’t words to express how bad I feel about that, but it’s still the better alternative.”

He looked doubtful. “So what are you reading?” 

“It’s a history of archangels.” He showed it to the Prophet, not that the kid seemed to be able to read it. Apparently being a Prophet gave him the ability to translate the babble on the god rocks but not much else. “I’m not sure why the Men of Letters even have it or why it was written down.”

“What language is that?” “Enochian.” 

“Isn’t that the language of angels?”

“Yep.”

“So why can you read it? Do they teach it at hunter summer camp or something?”

He snorted. “No, I’m pretty sure my fluency is unique among hunters. Let’s just say I had a really intense immersion program, okay? And it’s not just angels, you should know that. Some really powerful, really sketchy demons know it too. Maybe some of the Fallen?” He shrugged. “You know, I kind of wonder if this might not be Gabriel’s handwriting. It would explain the margin drawings of monks getting it on with … uh, maybe swans?”

“Gabriel’s real?” 

“Was real.” 

“What is he now, pixie dust?”

Sam shouldn’t feel guilt for Gabriel. Gabriel had killed Dean a hundred and eighty seven times. Of course, if he could feel guilt for freaking Lucifer he could feel guilt for Gabriel. “He’s dead.”

“Did you –“

“No. Thought about it a few times. Even tried once or twice. But no, it was Lucifer.” 

“Lucifer is real?”

“Oh yeah. Lucifer is real. He’s not a problem for you though, and neither is Michael. None of the archangels are, actually. That’s why Crowley was able to even come near you. A prophet is supposed to be protected by an archangel, but there aren’t any anymore. Raphael is dead. Cas killed him. Gabriel got killed by Lucifer, and Michael and Lucifer are still in the Cage.”

Kevin shook his head. “Wait a minute. I thought Michael was in Heaven. I mean, he’s the one who put Lucifer into the cage in the first place, right?”

“The first time, sure. And then I accidentally popped the box. Turns out Michael was actually pretty keen to get back to fighting with his brother and wasn’t so enthusiastic when we figured out a way to put Luci back. Tried to stop – it,” he stopped. “So he had to go too.” 

“Saint Michael. Is in Hell.”

“Michael is no saint.” He couldn’t stop the snarl, the twist of hate to his lips.

“You make it sound personal.” Kevin was looking at him like he was crazy. 

He knew he should shut up. Kevin wasn’t equipped to know this kind of information, and even if he were he wouldn’t care. No one did. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t deserved what he’d gotten. At the same time the kid’s superior attitude had really worn him down, and it wasn’t as though he’d ever spoken to anyone else about it. “It was personal, Kevin. Lucifer was wearing me when he went in.”

“Dean did that to you?” he gasped.

“No. No, he tried to talk me out of it, but it was the only way to get him back in the box. You’ve already heard about how angels need a vessel, runs in bloodlines for certain angels, blah blah blah. Right? Well, that’s even more important for archangels. In fact, archangels have True Vessels – a vessel that can contain them for a length of time without combusting or disintegrating. For Lucifer, that was me. In order to get him back in the Cage I had to let him … possess me, then take back control and jump.”

“Uh…” Kevin looked a little green around the gills.

“Look, man, I won’t pretend it didn’t suck, but it was what had to be done, okay? Besides, I mean, it’s what I’m good for, right?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Kevin. Which one would you rather have at your back, Dean or me? Which one would you rather entrust with protecting humanity?” He kept the note of bitterness out of his voice. He didn’t have a right to it, after all. 

“So all this…” The youth gestured to Sam’s body, the blankets, the Kleenex. “All of this isn’t exactly new for you.”

“Usually it’s a lot quicker. Not as much warning. But whatever.”

“So what was it like?” 

“What, dying?”

“The Cage.”

He shifted. “Kevin, you really don’t want to know the answer to that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve never talked about it before, have you?”

“Why would I possibly do that?”

“Maybe to make it slightly less awful? Share the burden, that kind of thing?” 

He gaped. He wiped his hand across his mouth to close it. “Kevin, that’s, uh, that’s really nice, but um, I don’t think –“

“Just try. What’ve you got to lose?”

And what exactly did he have to lose, anyway? It wasn’t as though he didn’t have to relive those memories all the time anyway. It wasn’t as though this guy liked him in the first place, he didn’t like him and he didn’t respect him. He wouldn’t be losing anything from Kevin if he spoke. And maybe Kevin would quit bitching about Channing and his mom. “I was still alive, you know. When I jumped, when I pulled Michael in. I remember the falling. It seemed like I was falling for like half an hour, just falling. I have no idea how long it actually was but I was moving so fast, so incredibly fast. I should have reached terminal velocity – I should have died long before I hit the ground. Lucifer hung onto me though – he was still riding me, and he wouldn’t let me die until the cage was locked. As soon as we hit the ground of course he pulled out of me, and if you’ve never been an archangel’s vessel I can’t find a way to make you understand what that feels like. “Most of the time when you consent to being possessed by an archangel you get badly damaged, depending on how long they’re using you and how close to the True Vessel you are. Raphael’s vessel, from what I heard, was pretty much a vegetable when he wasn’t actively inhabited. Nick, the guy Lucifer was using before me, he burned from the inside out which is funny because Lucifer burns cold. I think that’s one reason Azazel did what he did, why Ruby was encouraged to do what she did – to get me to burn even hotter, so I wouldn’t be so damaged by Lucifer when the time came.” Kevin wouldn’t know what any of that meant, not really. He knew he was rambling a bit but what the Hell. He was feverish and he was sick and he was so incredibly tired and it was his story and he wasn’t going to have another chance to tell it. “Over thousands of years angels engineered a… breeding program… to create really perfect True Vessels for Michael and Lucifer, right? I was literally designed to be Lucifer’s. My body, my mind, my heart, my soul. Everything. So while having him in me like that was absolute agony it was also like… he fit. Or I fit. We fit, I guess. Seamless. And just as we landed he pulled out, tearing out with no gentleness or care or … think of it as though someone reached into your ribcage and started pulling out organs without anesthetic. On top of every broken bone, the liquefied organs….”

“So you died.” Kevin had gone from green to white.

“Hell yeah I died. But once we touched down there was no getting out, you know? And they had free reign over the interior of that cage. There was only one thing they couldn’t do and that was leave. They could create anything they wanted, create their own little realities.” 

“So what did they do?”

“Everything.”

Kevin swallowed. “Everything?” 

“These are the two most powerful beings in the world, excluding God. I mean, God’s probably still out there, but no one has even heard from him in millennia. They had been building up to this big fight – the Apocalypse, their big pissing contest – for eons. There was nothing that they couldn’t do, or so they believed. And it all came crashing down because of one puny little creature – not even a real human, something lower even than that. And that –“ he felt his mouth twist again – “abomination… was locked into their own little world with them. On the one hand they had to spend all of eternity with that monstrosity. On the other hand, they could do basically whatever they wanted to him – me – and there was no one who was going to tell them no in any meaningful way. So they did.” 

“They didn’t…”

“Kevin, you were in your school’s Amnesty International group, right? So you’ve read all the Amnesty reports about torture. When a person or group gets authority over a person or group who has wronged them in some way – through real power or through usurped power, rebellion, whatever – they’ll usually use some kind of sexual torture to reinforce the subject’s powerlessness. I’d say dehumanize the subject but well, it’s me. That wasn’t really necessary in my case.” It was easiest to discuss it clinically. “That’s not the only thing they did, of course. These were multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. They weren’t exactly limited by narrow definitions, you know?” He kept talking. It was like once he started he couldn’t stop – like an arterial wound, spurting forth and spraying everything around. 

He talked about the differences between the archangels – how Michael was more physical where Lucifer preferred more psychological torture, how when the pair decided to team up there was almost nothing they couldn’t do to him. He talked about how time moves differently on Earth and in Hell proper and in the Cage, so three minutes of Earth time was the equivalent of a week in the Cage. He talked about the shame and the humiliation, about the burning and the despair. Lucifer had enjoyed creating scenarios in which he had the illusion of rescue only to find himself returned to the Cage, often after being hunted as the monster he really was. He talked about the detailed torments Michael liked to carve into him. 

He talked about the guilt, the guilt of Lucifer. He loved Dean, loved him more than anyone else in the world. He couldn’t function without Dean, not in any way that passed for a sane human, but there had been exactly two beings that had ever tried to actually make him happy and he’d betrayed them both. Jess – he’d gotten her killed simply by going near her. And Lucifer – yeah, he was Satan, the Devil. But he’d gone to great lengths to convince Sam to accept him of his own free will. Once Sam had said yes – not out of acceptance but in an effort to defeat him – he hadn’t tried to crush him. Instead he’d gone to great lengths to give him what he thought his vessel would want, revenge against the creatures that had dominated so much of his life. He’d even tried to convince Michael to call off the Apocalypse and all for Sam. And Sam had indeed betrayed him, taking him down into the Cage again. It had to be done, he knew that, and it wasn’t as though he’d wanted to tear through that room full of demons. But he’d tried.

He talked about how Cas had come down and tore half of him out of the Cage – his body and his mind. He’d probably tried for more but Lucifer and Michael both grabbed tight and held onto the soul, which was how he managed to achieve the unique achievement of being in two places at the same time. For extra entertainment Lucifer used to like to let him watch what his soulless self got up to in the living world, which tore more holes in his soul than any of the torments the archangels could devise even without the limitations of a physical body. And he talked about his life without a soul too, because really, that had been a torture in and of itself. He talked about how he could remember feeling things but couldn’t summon the actual feelings. He could remember how certain people had actually felt about him and just couldn’t bring himself to care. He talked about that awful feeling of emptiness, that disconnection and the desperation he’d had to remedy it. And then of course there was the horror, the terror when he’d figured out what had happened, and the knowledge that while the way he was “living” was horrible and terrible and no good it was a damn sight better than what his brother was trying to do to him by putting the mutilated soul back into him.

And then his brother had. 

“How do you even get out of bed?” the teen whispered. His face had gone from green to white to gray during the course of Sam’s raspy, choking monologue. 

“You think staring at the ceiling will make anything better?” he chuckled. “Sorry, man. You did ask.”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. I did.” Kevin made a flimsy excuse and staggered out of the room.

Sam heard the door open and Dean return with the groceries just as their youngest housemate began heaving in the bathroom. “What’s with him?” his brother asked. 

“Choked on something.” He turned back to his book. “I think he’ll be all right though.”


End file.
